


Call Me Pretty

by ChibisUnleashed



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Crack, M/M, No you didn't read that wrong, Pitch is also not actually a boy, Pizza Boy!Pitch, Teen rating for language and innuendo, but still there so, definitely crack, even though it's really mild innuendo, fluffy kinda romantic crack, for real, have fun, he's a grown man delivering pizzas, it is now a thing, there and gone, which just makes this funnier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 03:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12739944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibisUnleashed/pseuds/ChibisUnleashed
Summary: The meme stopped being funny the second time it popped up in his instructions, but a job's a job. Maybe this time it'll work out a little less awkward for Pitch. Maybe this time it'll work out well?





	Call Me Pretty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KamuiWithFangs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KamuiWithFangs/gifts).



Pitch sighed. The print-out was clear but he imagined people thought their delivery boys were going to be actual  _ boys,  _ young and cute and eager to please whatever young and cute and eager to date girl answered the door.

That was not Pitch.

Pitch was really too old to be doing this job but his resume wasn’t getting a million hits every day and he couldn’t be picky with bills to pay. Most of the time it was fine. Pitch loved being on his own in his car where his imagination could run wild between pick-ups and drop-offs but  _ this.  _

This particular brand of instructions was getting increasingly popular as of late. Fucking memes. 

And it was  _ so awkward  _ when the person who answered the door was still in high school and Pitch  _ still had to call them pretty.  _

Fucking.

Memes.

Which made it a million times worse when the man who opened the door was  _ actually  _ a man, if a young one, with dyed hair and an excited grin and not an ounce of mockery about him. That was the other end of it: the people who made him say it because he had to. 

This man just handed over his card and reached for the box, excitedly opening the lid to get a peek and then closing it again so it stayed warm, “Thanks. I’ve been dying for like, thirty minutes.”

Which is about as long as it takes to make, bake, and deliver a pizza. Planning ahead? Not this man’s strong suite.

“No problem,” Pitch answered automatically, taking the card and briefly checking that it had a signature, as if he were a human handwriting analyzer. Still, checking that the names matched was the least he could do. It would be awful if someone this handsome was into petty theft already, but it wouldn’t be the first time Pitch had seen it. 

“Shit,” he cursed, and Pitch looked up to hand the card back and collect the signed receipt. Except the man wasn’t handing it back, yet. “I forgot to add a tip. Fuck.” Pitch couldn’t imagine how, what with the tip line being right above the total line, but whatever. It was hard to be upset when the man was digging through his pockets and producing actual bills for him. Cash was always better, anyway. “Here.”

It was a ten. The  _ pizza  _ barely cost ten. Pitch couldn’t keep his smile tame as he took it and slid it in a back pocket, “And I haven’t even called you pretty, yet.”

The man looked too shocked for a person who literally wrote it into the instructions.

“What?”

“You,” Pitch clarified, nodding toward the other and his admittedly pleasing looks, “You’re  _ very  _ pretty.” 

He stared too long for someone expecting this. Pitch began to feel uneasy about it, but how could he have mixed up the deliveries? He checked it a million times to make sure, mostly because he had been hoping it would magically vanish, but still…

“Have I tripped and fallen into a porno?” Pitch would think he’d hallucinated, except he repeated himself, “Please tell me I’ve tripped and fallen into a porno.”

Pitch’s eyes widened. This had never happened before. “W-what? No, this isn’t-”

The man interrupted by turning the pizza box around and opening it once more to show off the edible inside, “But you’re tall, dark, and handsome, you’re literally delivering double the sausage to my door,” and Pitch hadn’t realized the mobile dirty joke the pizza had been until just that moment, “and you called me pretty.”

“It was in the instructions!” Pitch defended, voice stammering more than he’d like, “I can  _ show you,  _ if you’d like?”

“It was in…” The man trailed off, eyes darting back and forth as he apparently followed that thought through to some conclusion inside his own mind. “Oh my God,” he finally said aloud, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. My friends- I’m kind of desperate for a boyfriend right now? I bet they thought this would be funny.”

Pitch wasn’t sure which thing to focus on. That he hadn’t been the jerk to write that into the instructions? That he was desperate for a boyfriend? That he’d called Pitch, ‘tall, dark, and handsome’?

“It… it’s not your fault…”

“No, it is. I’m really sorry for your trouble. Here,” and he reached back into his pocket for another bill, “have a twenty. It’s the least I can do.”

Pitch automatically put his hand around it, damn his minimum wage job instincts, but was too busy thinking to complete the motion. Desperate for a boyfriend. A handsome young man. Desperate for a boyfriend. Kind to his delivery boy. Desperate for a boyfriend. Definitely into sausage. Desperate for a boyfriend. A  _ great  _ tipper…

Pitch said the words before he knew what he was doing, “Only if you’ll write your number on it.”

The silence that met him was not reassuring. 

Pitch was  _ this  _ close to taking it back, unable to stand staring into those wide, shocked blue eyes any longer after saying something so  _ embarrassing  _ and apparently unwanted, when the man grinned a cheshire cat grin and took his bill back. He wrote against the door jam for a second, then shoved it back against Pitch’s palm. 

“There.”

Was this real? Did this really just happen?

Without another word, the man took his pizza inside and gave a flirty wink as he closed the door.

Pitch had just enough awareness not to stand outside the door looking like a stalker. He turned and went back to his car, sat safely in the haven of his front seat, and finally looked down at the twenty. 

There, in bright blue ink, was a phone number and a name: Jack.


End file.
